


I'd Still Find You

by sweet_poeia



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 06:39:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweet_poeia/pseuds/sweet_poeia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam wasn’t drunk when he made the dating profile. He was, in fact, rather harshly sober at the time. It was a deliberate act.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'd Still Find You

**Author's Note:**

> With hugs and thanks to the wonderful indyakasha for the beta. Title from Kris Allen's song, "Blindfolded."

Adam wasn’t drunk when he made the dating profile. He was, in fact, rather harshly sober at the time. It was a deliberate act.

Truth be told, it wasn’t even the first time he had done it. There was the time in high school, on his family’s computer, the page filled out covertly and frantically deleted when he heard the school bus bringing Neil home from middle school. That one was just for practice, anyway. He didn’t even have a credit card. Then he thought about doing it right after he moved to LA, but he learned after about two days that all he had to do was walk into a club, so it had seemed sort of pointless to spend the money. There were always boys for dancing with and boys for hooking up with and, once, a boy to fall in love with. So in retrospect, sometimes love was hard, but it was also pretty easy. Now, ten years later, he wasn’t Adam Lambert club kid anymore, but Adam Lambert superstar rock god. Sex was impossibly easy, and love was seemingly impossible.

“I wish,” he confided to Tommy on the bus one night, “that I could just meet someone who had never heard of me before and didn’t give a shit about if I’m famous.” Sometimes it felt kind of good to wallow.

Tommy bumped his shoulder sympathetically. “Yeah,” he agreed companionably. Which would have been just right, but then Tommy continued. “But dude, there’s not a gay guy on the planet who doesn’t know who you are. Did you see that one guy tonight with the tattoo of your--”

“That’s what I mean. They think they know me, but they don’t. And they don’t want to get to know me, the real me.”

Tommy kissed his shoulder, then snuggled in under his arm. “Hey. I didn’t meet you til you were famous, and I love the real you.”

“I know, honey, but that’s different. You never wanted to fuck me.”

“Yeah,” Tommy agreed, “but I’m still up for friendly blowjobs. Standing offer.” He yawned as Adam scratched his head affectionately.

“Nah, it’d just turn you gay. More fun making out with straight boys on stage.”

“Oh, please. Like your magic dick would just turn me gay,” Tommy mumbled, and within a minute he was fast asleep.

Adam didn’t sleep, though. He stayed wide awake until they got to the hotel, looking out the window and enjoying the pleasantness of Tommy’s warm little body tucked in against his. As much as he liked Tommy, loved him really, he honestly never was tempted by the prospect of hooking up with him. Adam liked boys who liked boys, end of story.

There were, thankfully, no glamberts waiting in the lobby this time. Isaac led a sleepy Tommy away, and Adam wistfully watched everyone else head off to their shared rooms. He was alone, as usual, and while he liked the privacy and bathroom counter space, tonight was different. Tonight he wanted companionship.

It was too late to call anyone. He pulled off his boots and wandered out to the balcony to look at the moon. Not quite full, but nice and fat, with some clouds giving it a gauzy effect around the edges. Adam watched it for a while. He tipped back his head and softly howled, “Awoooo.”

No answer.

“Lonely wolf,” he whispered to no one.

Back in the room, he undressed and considered going to bed, but he knew there was no chance of falling asleep anytime soon. He knew that buzzy feeling all too well. So he ran a bath, even though he had showered back at the venue, and stayed in the water until his fingers were pruney. It was an enormous tub, big enough for two. He sang some bits and pieces of songs, testing the acoustics of the room.

When he finally left the tub and dried off, it felt nice to slide between the crisp, cool sheets. He still wasn’t sleepy, though. He checked his phone, put it aside, reached for his laptop. He stared at Google for a while before he typed in, _how to find true love_. Then he deleted it. Then he typed it again. What the fuck.

The first thing on the list was an add for eHarmony. He considered it for a time. Then he searched for gay dating services. Gaylicious? No. Mancrunch? No. Adam4Adam? Tempting, but...no.

The one that caught his eye was StarMatch, a “community for relationship-minded gays and lesbians.” He clicked.

There was even a personality test that was supposed to match you with the most compatible people. Be honest, it advised, to ensure the best matches. So Adam was honest.

NEW PROFILE: _username sushiwolf. 26. Los Angeles area. Tired of looking for love in shady bars. Travel a lot for work, but longing for a long-term, committed relationship. Love music, fashion, beauty in all things. Can be impulsive. Bigger guy, admittedly toppy. Romantic. Searching. Hopeful._

It also strongly advised uploading pictures. Adam passed on that one.

He refreshed the page a few times that night, but his inbox stayed empty save for the welcome message from the administrator. He wasn’t really sure what he expected. A net full of fish that he would secretly inspect and then sorrowfully return to the sea? They would be perfect and pure and true, and entirely unsuited for life in his bowl. Note to self, he thought. Next time find true love first, _then_ pursue international stardom. He closed the laptop, hugged a pillow, and finally managed a couple of hours of sleep.

There still weren’t any fish in the net the next morning. By that time he felt kind of embarrassed about the previous night’s exercise in self-pity anyway, so in a way it was a relief. But at the same time he couldn’t help thinking, “See? Without the sparkly bait, no one’s biting.” He made a mental note to delete the profile, and that night he went out dancing with Brooke and Terrance. When he came home he slept like a baby.

It was a few days before he remembered to delete the profile. There was a long bus ride, and he was watching _Zombieland_ when he remembered, so he paused the movie and went to the site. There were two messages in his inbox. Two sad, measly little sardines in the net. Ah, well. Probably to be expected since he hadn’t uploaded any pictures. He wouldn’t bother with someone who wouldn’t show his face, either. Still. Two sardines.

He clicked on the first message. _hey i like a big boy, wanna be in my pack lol why don’t you send me a pic and mabe we can talk. Jayjayy_

Aaaand deleted.

He peeked behind door number two. _You sound really sweet. We share a lot of the same interests. Check out my profile pic and let me know if you like what you see. I notice you didn’t post a picture. Would like to know what you look like before, I’m sure you understand. mr.robinson_

After briefly entertaining the thought of posting a picture of Neil, Adam deleted that one, too.

Just as he located the “manage my account” button, one more fish appeared. _I always had a feeling there was a sushi eating wolf out there somewhere. sirk._

***

When Kris moved to LA he told everyone he wanted to break into the music business. That was the truth. It just wasn’t the whole truth. He also wanted to break out of something.

Now it was six months later and he hadn’t broken in or out. He was mostly just broke.

Okay, technically, he was out. He had told his new roommate, Matt, that he was theoretically gay.

“Theoretically?” Matt raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s a really strong theory. Just not tested, like, formally. Yet. Because...”

“Arkansas.”

“Yeah. Arkansas.”

“Nobody gay in Arkansas?”

“No, sure they are. I guess. It’s just, harder. So I thought maybe here, it would be different.”

“Is it different?” Matt seemed genuinely curious.

Kris grinned. “Well, for one thing, my roommate didn’t freak out when I told him, so yeah. It’s different. You are still gonna be my roommate, right?”

“Are you kidding? This is perfect. I was legitimately concerned every girl I brought home was gonna go batshit over your cute ass. Now I got no worries.” Matt tossed him another beer. “So, how we gonna get you laid?”

Which led to an uncomfortable (for Kris) Q and A about Kris’s type.

“I don’t know. Someone nice, I guess.”

“Nice.”

Kris shrugged. “I don’t really think--”

“Laid, Kris. Focus. Okay, so who do you find hot. Like, actors and stuff. George Clooney? I know, old, but that is a fine looking man you’ve got to admit. What about the Doogie guy, Patrick something, he’s gay, right? Ooh, wait, I’ve got it. Daniel Craig. Yeah, Daniel Craig, he’s like--damn. I mean, I’ve never jerked off to a dude before, but if I --”

“Jake Gyllenhaal,” Kris blurted out, desperate to stop Matt from saying more words.

A pause. “Really? Huh.” Matt looked a little disappointed. “Okay. Okay, we can work with that.”

So began Matt’s quest for Jake Gyllenhaal’s gay clone to relieve Kris of his virginity. It made Matt happy, so Kris didn’t mind. Matt was really a great guy, and he helped Kris out a lot those first months in LA. He let Kris cover for him at the piano bar where he worked, and that led to a steady job there. He still worked behind the bar on his nights off, but at least he was making some money playing music, and he was glad he could tell his mama that.

He was so busy trying to pay the rent that there wasn’t a whole lot of time to write or work on his own stuff, but he did what he could. The other thing, though, the social thing. That was a little harder.

Matt tried to help. He even took Kris to a gay bar one night, along with Allison, a singer from work. Allison danced a lot and had a great time while Matt optimistically tried hitting on lesbians. Kris was too nervous to look at anyone and hid in a corner of the bar. He wished they could have at least gone someplace with live music.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Matt was dragging him in the direction of the dance floor. “Okay, I’m just gonna dance with you for a minute, because if people think you’re with me they’ll be afraid to--”

“Hey there, looking for me?” Matt was cut off by a very tall, very blond guy wearing incredibly tight jeans and an amazing smile.

Before Kris could answer, he was on the dance floor with the guy, watching his hips do mesmerizing things in those tight jeans.

The guy smirked at Kris. “I’m Alex,” he called over the music. “You’re fucking adorable. Come on, honey.” He reached for Kris’s hands and put them on his mesmerizing hips, and then Kris was moving with him, glad that he’d had a couple of beers to loosen up. Alex was seriously hot, and Kris felt himself melting as Alex took charge of the way they moved together. “Such a hot little thing,” Alex growled into Kris’s ear, and Kris might have moaned a little, but then Kris felt a hot big thing pressed against his side and Alex was saying, “Come on, I want to blow you,” and leading him toward the bathroom. And that’s when the alarm went off in Kris’s head, because this guy didn’t even know his name, and the bathroom? What?

He pulled his arm away. “Um. You want to maybe have a drink or something?”

Alex stared at him before his face broke out in a grin, and damn, he really was hot. “Well, no, my little country mouse. Thirsty is not what I am right now.” He quirked an eyebrow at Kris, a question.

“Oh. I, uh, I’m gonna find my friends, then, but, thanks,” Kris mumbled.

“Straight guy and cute redhead. Over there,” Alex gestured to the bar. “Standing offer, honey. Anytime.” With a wink and one last devastating grin, Alex disappeared into the crowd. Kris made his way to Matt and Allison on shaky knees, suddenly aware of several pairs of appraising eyes on him.

Allison took one look at him and said, “Let’s go.” Back at Matt’s and Kris’s place, they ordered pizza and debriefed.

“Okay, first, how the hell did he know I was straight? And second, cover your ears, Ally, explain to me what would be so bad about getting a no-strings-attached bj from the guy who looked like Sawyer from _Lost_?”

“Ooh, he did, didn’t he?” Allison dropped her hands from her ears. Then she scowled at Matt. “Shame on you, Matty. Kris isn’t that kind of boy.” She beamed at Kris approvingly.

“For real?” Matt asked. “Because it seems to me that you are missing out on a really big advantage of gay life.”

Allison threw a mushroom at Matt. “Like you would know.”

“Fine, you’re the expert. Can I tell him?” Matt asked Allison. She shrugged and poured herself another margarita. “The reason I asked Allison to go out with us is--”

“Because I am fun and awesome.”

“Yes, that, and also--Allison knows a lot about dudes getting it on with other dudes. Like, a scary lot.”

Kris was torn between wanting to know more and wanting to lock himself in his room with his headphones and the margarita pitcher.

“Yeah. She has this hobby, see. She writes, like, gay porn--”

“Fanfiction. And it’s not porn. Well, not always.”

“Right, okay. So this is all frankly a little outside of my field of expertise, so I thought she could be, like, your mentor.”

Allison sighed. “Matt. Like I said, I’m happy to go out with you guys, but what I know about gay men mostly comes from slash written by women. Also _Queer As Folk_. And my friend Tony, but he never tells me anything juicy. He’s all, ‘None of your business, Ally,’ ever since he met Fred. Those two are ridiculous.” Her eyes widened. “That’s it!” She bounced up and down on her knees. “Tony’s not that kind of boy, either, and he met Fred through this dating site for gay men who are looking for true love and not hook ups or some shit. And yeah, it worked! So that’s what Kris should do!”

Matt frowned. “True love? So, we’re just gonna forget about blowjob guy?”

“Well, not true love, necessarily, but a relationship. Like, dating and getting to know someone. Like that.”

They both looked at Kris expectantly. “Um. Guys? I appreciate your...interest in this, I really do. But right now, I just want to eat some pizza and think about something else for a while.”

So they spent the rest of the night playing Mario Kart and not talking about Kris’s social life.

When he woke up the next morning, he experimentally jerked off to thoughts of Steven blowing him in a bathroom stall, which was nice, but he got much better results when he shifted back to his old standby of riding Jake Gyllenhaal on a deserted moonlit beach.

He didn’t really seriously consider Allison’s suggestion until a few weeks later when he was playing an endless set of love songs at the piano bar. It was Valentine’s day, and the bar was running a sweetheart special. The place was filled with adorable couples holding hands and feeding each other truffles, and one guy even went down on one knee and brought out a ring box, which made Kris a little misty. When he got home that night, he sat down with his computer, pulled out the post it note Allison had given him weeks ago, and typed in _StarMatch._

***

The message from Sirk made Adam smile. It was so simple and cute. Besides that, he wasn’t demanding a picture or asking for anything at all, he was just...making conversation. Adam clicked on the name. The picture he saw made his eyebrows shoot up, and he sat up a little straighter. Because, damn.

In the picture, Sirk was playing a guitar. He wasn’t looking at the camera, but off into the  
distance--at an audience, maybe--and he looked...happy. Just really happy. His eyes were crinkled, like he was about to laugh, and his hair was kind of messy, and his neck and jawline were straight out of Adam’s dreams.

After a few minutes of gazing, Adam scrolled down to the profile message. _23\. Moved to LA from Arkansas and looking to meet people, but not into the bar scene. I guess I’m a Iow key kind of guy. New at this, can you tell?_

Yeah, Adam thought, I can tell. He wondered how many responses Kris must have gotten with a profile pic like that. Impulsively, he went back to Sirk’s message, hit reply, and typed: _You wouldn’t believe how bad Twilight has been for our image. Mostly we’re hiding out at Whole Foods and waiting for it to pass. Welcome to Cali._

Adam went back to Sirk’s picture. This time he noted the plain white t-shirt that hugged his arms. Judging his size in relation to the guitar, he was a small guy. And Arkansas, that might mean a southern accent. While he was considering this, a chat box popped up.

Sirk: _Thanks! I like it here pretty good._

Adam’s fingers were on the keyboard before he really thought about it.

Sushiwolf: _Love your accent._

Sirk: _Man! Even in print?! If I had a nickel for every time I heard that in the last two months._

Sushiwolf: _I’m sure most people can’t hear the accent online. Wolf ears, remember?_

Sirk: _That’s reassuring. So what accent am I doing now?_

Sushiwolf: _British._

Sirk: _Amazing._

Adam grinned.

Sushiwolf: _Southern is my favorite. Always has been._

Just when Adam realized that oh shit, he shouldn’t be flirting, the next message popped up.

Sirk: _Since I don’t have wolf ears, what kind of accent do you have?_

Sushiwolf: _Cali. Grew up in San Diego, moved all the way to LA. I have to travel a lot for work, though._

Sirk: _Do u like the travel?_

Sushiwolf: _Yes and no. My job makes it really hard to have a relationship._

He frowned to himself. Might as well get it over with.

Sushiwolf: _So I should tell you that I actually came here today to erase my profile after I realized that I’m not in any position to date anyone right now._

Sirk: _Oh._

Sushiwolf: _Now I feel like a jackass. I guess I just signed up when I was having a low moment._

Sirk: ?

Sushiwolf: _Not that it means someone is having a low moment to sign up, just--I was. God, I need to shut up._

Sushiwolf: _Sirk? You still there?_

Sirk: _That was my mime accent. Couldn’t you tell?_

Adam threw back his head and laughed.

Sushiwolf: _You are seriously adorable. And southern, and a musician, and really, really cute. I’ll bet half the internet is asking you out._

Sirk: _There are a lot of disturbing people on here. That is all I’m saying. I was just about to cut bait myself until I saw your name and I liked it. No worries, man. It’s cool._

Adam sat for a moment, uncertain. He knew it was right to let this just end like this, but he didn’t want to. All of a sudden, he felt protective of Sirk.

Sushiwolf: _Hey, be careful out there, ok?_

Sirk: _You too. Hey, if you ever feel low again I’m sirk@gmail.com. Just if you need a friend. My name’s Kris._

And Adam caught his breath, because this guy, this sweet little guy he was feeling protective over, he had Adam’s back.

Sushiwolf: _Thanks, Kris. That means a lot. Take care._

It wasn’t until he closed his laptop that Adam realized Kris had never asked to see his picture.

***

“That guy was totally checking you out,” Matt panted. “Let’s rest here for a minute in case he turns back.”

“Nice try. We’re not stopping.” Kris slowed down a little, though. “Come on, man, only two more miles. You got this.”

“Only?” Matt stopped and leaned forward, gasping for breath. “You go on. Save yourself.” He staggered to a bench off the trail.

Kris debated heading on, but decided to do some stretches and wait for Matt.

“No girl is worth this.” Matt pulled his sweaty t-shirt away from his body. “Seriously, why did I let her talk me into this frickin’ marathon?” Matt’s latest crush had a charity kink.

“It’s not a marathon,” Kris said reasonably. “It’s, like, six miles, and it’s for a good cause. And it was either that or shave your head for St. Baldrick’s...”

“And that ain’t gonna happen, my brother. I’m keeping every follicle as long as I possibly can.” Matt sighed. “Aw, shit. She’s worth it. Just give me a--” Matt froze and bent over to tie his shoe. “He’s coming back.”

“What? Who?”

“That guy. I told you. Red shorts.”

Kris looked, and sure enough, red shorts guy grinned at him and waved. And kept on running, giving Kris an excellent view of his excellent behind.

“He’s just being friendly.”

“Kris? That guy was putting on a show for you. How can you not see that? Let me make this simple for you. Run after him.”

Kris just shook his head. “No way.”

“Why--”

“I said no, okay? Can we drop it?”

Matt looked a little hurt. “Sure. Sorry.”

“It’s just that. I don’t know, nothing seems to be working for me. I suck at this, I guess.”

It was obvious that Matt was dying to ask, so with a sigh, Kris continued. “The bar thing didn’t work out. There was this guy at church who was cool, but apparently I have, like, no gaydar, so I’m afraid to ask him out. I even tried that dating website Ally told me about.”

“Oh, shit. I forgot. Ally told me to tell you that she talked to Tony, and he said it was a total meat market, and it was like a freakin’ miracle that he met Fred there in the sea of--”

“Yeah, I figured that out on my own. One guy sent me a picture of his dick. Or somebody’s dick.”

“No Freds, huh.”

Kris shook his head. “Well, there was one guy who was really nice, and funny. But then he said he wasn’t in a place to date anybody, so.”

Matt looked puzzled. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but this is a dating site, yes?”

Kris sighed. “Maybe he was being nice. Didn’t like my picture, but didn’t want to hurt my feelings or something.”

“Maybe he’s into bears,” said Matt matter of factly.

Kris nearly fell off the bench laughing. “How do you even know this terminology?”

“Been reading Ally’s fic. You pick up stuff. Not that she writes about bears. She likes pretty boys. Let me tell you something, I will never listen to a _My Chemical Romance_ song the same way again. And you know that guy in _Zombieland_ , curly hair? Man, they got him going at it with fucking Spiderman.”

Kris helplessly tipped right off the bench.

Matt stood up and stretched leisurely, then took off at a sprint. “Race you home!” he called over his shoulder.

Kris wiped his eyes and climbed back up on the bench. He’d give Matt a five minute head start, just to boost his confidence a little.

***

Highs and lows weren’t a new thing for Adam. He’d always been that way, joked about being bipolar, even. Brad had hated it, the way Adam would be the life of a party, then shut down when they got home. Brad wanted to party half the night, fuck in the back room the other half, then meet thirty close friends for brunch. Adam had thought to tame him once, but wild, beautiful Brad was kind of perfect the way he was. Just not perfect for Adam.

No, Adam had his down times, his low times, when he was better alone. And yet, he hated being alone. Tommy and the dancers always tried to cheer him up, and they just didn’t understand that he wanted someone to just be with him, not try to fix anything. So he usually ended up snapping, then he felt awful and bitchy.

On the road everything was magnified. On every stage he rode a high unlike anything he had ever imagined night after night, and he was still buzzing with warmth and electricity for the fans after. Most nights he was content with the silence that waited in his hotel room, or the quiet hum of the bus as they made their way to the next city. But there were other nights when he found himself wide awake and completely empty in the middle of the night, wrapped in a blanket on the balcony, staring at the moon and telling himself that he had everything, he had enough.

On one such wakeful and empty night, he thought of Sirk. Kris, that was his name. Kris. Adam wondered how he was navigating the Los Angeles waters. One way to find out for sure. He went inside and pulled out his laptop, telling himself that he would be as honest as he could, under the circumstances. Just looking for a friend. He took a minute to set up a new gmail account.

Sushi to Sirk: _Hey, Kris! It’s sushiwolf from StarMatch. I was just looking at the moon and wondering how things are going for you in LA. I’m traveling for work again. Going to be another month, and I’m getting pretty tired of hotel rooms. Anyway, I hope it’s ok that I’m taking you up on your offer of a friend, and hope you’re not regretting giving out your e-mail. I’m Adam, by the way._

It was a common enough name. He pressed send, imagining a little arrow zipping across the country and landing on Kris’s door.

The next night was a bus night. Tommy and Sasha had both fallen asleep on his bed, but he didn’t wake them. He liked the company, and there was room. He wasn’t ready to sleep, though, so he logged in to the new account.

Sirk to Sushi: _Hey, good to hear from you! I was wondering what happened to the other normal person on StarMatch. All that time in a hotel room sounds bleak. I used to go on mission trips in college, and the thing that kept me sane back at the place we stayed was music. I just kept it going all the time, even slept with my iPod, which had the bonus of drowning out the other guys’ snoring. So if you like music, maybe that would help you feel more at home there._

_Things are going pretty good here. Got a great roommate and made some friends, and I have a job playing at a piano bar. So I feel kind of settled. No luck with dating, though._

_Adam is a great name. I have a friend back home named Adam, too. ~Kris_

Adam read the message over a few times. Mission trip. That was...unexpected. And a piano bar, so he played piano as well as guitar. He briefly entertained the fantasy of scooping Kris up for the band, but he knew all too well that a boyfriend in the band was a disaster waiting to happen. As for Kris’s dating problem--that was puzzling.

Sushi to Sirk: _Hi, Kris! Your music idea is awesome. I’m going to make a playlist to help me sleep. Maybe some Goldfrapp, I love them. What kind of music do you play/listen to? I sing some myself, but I can’t play any instruments._

_Judging from that picture, you’re a stone cold fox. What exactly is it you’re doing that isn’t working out? I don’t mean to overstep or anything, but maybe I can offer advice? ~Adam_

Tommy woke up and blinked blearily at Adam.

“Sorry, Tommy Joe. Turning it off now.” Adam switched off the light and stroked Tommy’s hair until he fell back asleep.

***

Sirk to Sushi: _Advice from someone with experience would be great. The thing is, I’m not looking for hook-ups (my roommate says I’m an idiot) and nothing else seems to be working out. I had a blind date, but that was a disaster. The online thing didn’t work out. There’s one guy I’m interested in, but I’ve never asked anybody out before and I don’t know how. Back home, girls just kind of asked me out. Sheesh, this sounds lame. I swear I’m not 13. I just feel about that clueless._

_Music I like: Old stuff like Beatles, MJ. Nowadays John Mayer, Gotye, Adele. I googled Goldfrapp--really cool sound. I write songs and sing, but there are probably better voices out there. I just want to make music, you know? Hopefully not in a piano bar forever, but it beats Starbucks. What about you? What do you do when you’re not trapped in hotel rooms and giving advice to clueless people on the internet?_

Sushi to Sirk: _I do the same things people do in any business. Meetings and decisions. Lots of PR. Stress and deadlines when I just want to be creative. I can’t complain, and I’m grateful to be successful and have amazing people to work with, but it does dictate a lot of what happens in my personal life. You won’t be in a piano bar forever, but do me a favor and enjoy it while you can, ok? I remember when I was starting out in my business and I worried all the time about getting ahead and making enough money. But now that I look back, there was a lot of freedom that I miss now that it’s gone._

_More important things--just ask the guy out. I’ll bet he’s nervous like you are. Start with something simple, like coffee. Leave the rest of the day open, just in case. Or ask him to go hear a band you like. You hang out with your guy friends, right? It’s like that, only you worry about what to wear and maybe there’s kissing at the end ;)_

Sirk to Sushi: _Well, it makes a lot of sense when you say it like that. Alright, I’m gonna do it. I’ll see him Sunday, so I’ll just ask him if he wants to get something to eat. Thanks, Adam. I’ll let you know how it goes._

Adam read the last message with a feeling of pride. He kind of liked this mentor thing. He had gleefully jumped down the rabbit hole himself when he’d moved to West Hollywood at 18, but Kris...he wasn’t like that. “Go get ‘em, little tiger,” he thought. He hoped whoever the guy was, he was good enough for someone like Kris.

Sunday came and went with no word from Kris.

Monday afternoon, Adam sent him a quick, _“So, how did it go??”_

Nothing.

On Tuesday, Adam sent, _“Please just tell me you weren’t abducted and shipped to Thailand? I would never forgive myself.”_

Sirk to Sushi: _Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. It went bad, is all._

Adam read that short and heartbreaking message backstage in his dressing room. His first reaction was concern for Kris, quickly followed by anger at this guy, this _asswipe_ who had the nerve to make Kris feel even more down on himself, and then back to concern.

Sushi to Sirk: _You want me to kick his ass for you? I’ll totally do it. Perfect crime. Did you ever see Strangers on a Train? Seriously, I’m really sorry it didn’t work out. I have a business thing in a little while that will take most of the evening, but if you want to talk it out later or anything, my number is 466-231-1794. Or if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s ok too. Or if you don’t want to call because it might be weird to talk to your internet gay-dating mentor, that would probably be a sensible decision._

An assistant knocked on the door. Adam sent the message, grabbed a bottle of water, and headed backstage.

After the show there was a scheduled (meaning paid) bar appearance, but as soon as he felt his phone vibrate and he saw Kris’s name he excused himself and slipped out a side door to answer in relative quiet. His bodyguard, a bearded mountain of a man named Ed, followed him, scowling, and waited a respectable distance away.

“You called! I mean, hi! You called!”

A rumbly laugh. “Hi, Adam.”

“Hi!” Adam grinned like a dork as he settled down on the curb. He caught Ed staring and wiggled his fingers in a wave. Ed pretended to be busy with his phone.

“Of course I called. I mean I felt really bad that I worried you, when you were so nice helping me out and everything.” Adam took a minute to savor the voice, slow and resonant, and the Arkansas accent like honey on a spoon.

“No, don’t worry about that. I’m just sorry it didn’t work out this time. You shouldn’t let it get you down, though.”

There was that laugh again. He sure didn’t sound depressed. “I’m not. I mean I was, but now I’m not, because--oh, is this an okay time to talk?”

Adam watched as Ed steered a couple of tipsy queens back inside and closed the door behind them, leaning against it. _Thanks_ , he mouthed to Ed. “This is a perfect time. Shoot.”

“Well, it went bad, like I said, but later when I was in the ER--”

“The what?”

“Emergency room? It was just a cut lip, I needed a couple of stitches.”

“You needed--he--Kris what the fuck did he--”

“No, nothing, it was just. A misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?”

‘Yeah. His, um, girlfriend didn’t understand exactly why he was kissing me. Or she understood, I guess, but she didn’t much like it.”

“So he hit you?”

“Not...exactly.”

It slowly dawned on Adam. “So-- _she_ hit you?”

“Which isn’t really the point,” Kris said hastily. “So like I was saying, I had to get a couple of stitches, and there was this doctor. And I thought he was just, you know, really good at his job, because he spent a really long time taking care of me, and he wouldn’t let the nurse do anything, not even clean up the blood, and he had these really good, gentle hands...” Kris trailed off. “And then he called me tonight, just to see how I was doing.”

“Uh huh.”

“And he asked me if I wanted to go out to dinner. So I had a date.”

“You _beast_!”

That resonant chuckle again. Seriously, Adam could listen to it on a loop. “It was just like you said, like hanging out with a friend, only I felt like I wasn’t dressed right for the place.”

“And was there kissing at the end?” Adam teased.

“Well. No, because he was worried my lip might get infected.”

“Oh, right. So, are you going to see Dr. Devastating again?”

“Robert. That’s his name. Yeah, this weekend. So I wanted to say thanks, because without you I wouldn’t have asked out that guy from my church and then none of the rest would have happened.”

From his church? Adam bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

Candace poked her head out the door. When she spotted Adam, she impatiently gestured inside.

“Kris, that is so fantastic! I’m really happy for you, that things are going so well. Look, I wish I could talk to you longer, but I need to get back to something--just entertaining some clients, but--now that I have your number, can I call you back sometime? When you’re not out on a hot date, that is.”

“Yeah, of course! Next time I’ll even let you get in a word or two. Ok, good night.”

“Bye, Kris.” Adam sat for a minute looking at the phone screen. Allen. His name was Kris Allen.

Finally he stood. “Alright, Ed. Let’s get back to work.”

***

A week later, Kris blinked awake to Matt standing over him, saying, “Wake up, buddy.” The rogue couch spring was poking him in the back, and his neck was stiff. He was still holding his phone.

“Time’s it?” he mumbled as he sat up.

“Almost midnight. Talking to your doctor?”

“Hmm? Oh, no. Adam.”

“Who’s Adam?”

“Just this guy. Friend.” Kris started to lie back down on the sofa.

“No you don’t. Come on.” Matt hauled Kris up and faced him in the direction of the bathroom. “Pee and go to bed.”

“How do you know--”

“You always have to pee. Hurry, I want to take a shower.”

The next morning, Matt asked, “So, when’s your next doctor appointment?” he waggled his eyebrows.

Kris pulled the orange juice from the fridge. “Actually, I’m not seeing him anymore.” He poured a glass and leaned against the counter to drink it.

Matt studied him for a few seconds. “Okay. A, why not, he was perfect. And B, why do you look so happy?”

Kris grinned and shrugged. “He was fine. Just, you know, kind of germaphobic. Started to feel like I was going out with my mom. Hand sanitizer is not sexy.”

“Fair enough.”

Kris took another drink, then sort of smiled off into the distance like he was remembering something he liked.

“So?” asked Matt. “Why so chipper? Oh, it’s that guy you were talking to on the phone last night.”

Kris grinned again. “Maybe.”

“Spill. Then I’ll tell you about this chick Megan.”

“Not much to tell. Met him online. He’s...” Kris’s grin grew bigger, and he shook his head. “Just, he’s what I’m looking for.”

“No shit? That’s awesome! Alright, when you bringing him home?”

Kris’s grin faded a little. “Don’t know.”

Matt frowned. “Oh. Did you want the place to yourselves? Because I can clear out sometime if you need--”

“No, no, that’s not it. I want you to meet him. It’s just--well, I haven’t actually gotten to meet him myself yet. Like, in person.”

Matt’s left eyebrow went up.

“He’s travelling a lot for business. But we talk on the phone.”

The right eyebrow immediately joined it.

“So you’re telling me you’ve only talked on the phone.”

“Yep. Well, we text and e-mail, too.”

Matt stared at him for a very long time.

Kris grew uncomfortable. “What is it?”

“Kris. Kris, buddy. Look, I appreciate that you’re a trusting guy and all. I do. But don’t you think that maybe you should wait until you meet him before you start getting attached?”

Kris turned to the sink to wash his glass.

Matt continued. “I mean, he could be anybody. He could be, like, an eighty year old guy in Fresno in his bathrobe. Or a criminal. Or--”

“Exactly how would seeing him in person let me know he’s not a criminal? They look the same as anybody,” Kris reasoned.

“Okay, I exaggerate. But the point is, maybe he’s not who he says he is. Maybe it’s not even his picture.”

“What picture?”

“You haven’t even seen a _picture_?”

“Well, no. But I don’t see why it matters, since you think it might be fake anyway.”

“That’s--that’s not the point!”

“Don’t worry, man. I know what I need to know about Adam. I trust him.” Kris sliced a bagel and slid the two halves into the toaster. “Want one? Poppyseed.” Matt nodded distractedly, and Kris sliced a second bagel.

The kitchen was quiet for a few minutes. Kris pulled out the cream cheese and a knife, a couple of plates.

“He’s really smart, and funny,” Kris said after a few bites. “He makes me laugh all the time. And he thinks I’m funny, too. We like a lot of the same music, but some different stuff, too, which is cool. Right from the beginning it was easy to talk to him. He always really listens. Not like those people who check their email or clean out the refrigerator when they’re on the phone. He’s sweet, and has a big heart. But he’s got strong opinions, and he always says exactly what he thinks. And he has this voice. His voice is so sexy, I can’t even.” Kris played with a few fallen poppy seeds, embarrassed to look up from his plate.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Okay, but still, he can’t be ‘travelling for business’ forever, right? So you’ll meet him, and I hope. I just hope everything is still the same.”

Kris met his eyes. “I hope so, too,” he said softly. Because truth be told, he had worried about it. He liked to think it didn’t make any difference to him what Adam looked like, but sometimes he would see someone at work or on the street and think, what if Adam looked like that? Would he still be attracted to him if he came in that wrapper?

There was that other small concern, too. The one where Adam still thought that he, Adam, wasn’t in the right place to date anyone. But Kris suspected that had more to do with Adam being shy about his appearance than anything else.

The next time they talked, Adam complained about how hard it was to find healthy food when he wasn’t home. “That really good, dark lettuce. That’s what I’m craving, but there’s no Whole Foods here, and the last restaurant I went to, I think the only vegetable on the menu was a baked potato.” He groaned. “Which I ate. With butter. Oh, god.”

“So what? It’s just food. If you want it, you should eat it.”

“Easy for you. You’re like my brother, you can eat anything. It’s a safe bet that you never had to shop in the husky section when you were a kid.”

“I’ll bet you were a cute kid.” Kris took a deep breath. “Hey, send me a picture of when you were a kid. If you have one.”

There was a long silence on the other end. Then Adam said, “Yeah, I can do that. Sure, let me see what’s on here....” Another silence while Adam searched. “Okay, here you go.”

After a few seconds, the picture came. The little boy, Adam, was about eight or nine years old. He had reddish blonde hair, bright blue eyes, about a million freckles, and the biggest, sweetest smile. He was wearing baggy green sweatshirt, and sure, he was a sturdy kid, but he wasn’t fat, and Kris told him as much.

“Yeah, well it got worse. You should have seen me in high school, with bad skin and braces. Alright, I showed you mine. Your turn.”

“You’re on.” Kris sent a picture his mom had posted on facebook, of him sitting on Santa’s lap when he was about five years old.

“Aww.” Adam’s voice was soft. “That is one adorable kid. Look at you, you’re all enormous brown eyes and fluffy hair.”

On a whim, Kris quickly sent a second picture. It was him and Katy at their junior prom. His rented tux was too big, and his hair looked like it had been styled with a bowl.

Adam’s laugh rang out.

“What’s so funny?” Kris tried his best to sound indignant. He failed. “Fine, I look like the fourth Stooge.”

“Nah, still gorgeous. Pretty girl, too. That Katy?” Kris had told him about dating her through high school, how they were still friends.

“That’s her. Okay, I’m waiting.”

“No.”

“Only fair.”

“I don’t think I even have--”

“Yes you do. You have a mom, I’ll bet she has a Facebook. Let’s go.”

A labored sigh. “Fine.”

It was a high school portrait, junior or senior year. The same piercing blue eyes and freckles on a still boyish face. The hair was different--spiked with light streaks in it. His smile was perfect, so it must have been after the braces.

It was easy for Kris to imagine what this person would look like ten years later. Broad shoulders, thick red-gold hair, easy smile. The soft, full features over a strong profile. And those eyes. Nothing would change those eyes.

“Adam,” he began softly.

“I know. Opie.”

“What? No, you look good. I mean, your eyes are. Wow. Beautiful.”

“Where in the world were you when I was seventeen, Kris Allen?” Adam’s voice was husky.

Kris sighed dramatically. “Arkansas.”

So they ended up laughing, like usual.

They had unofficial phone dates almost every night now. Kris sometimes wondered how Adam could stay up so late, what with the time difference and all, but Adam assured him that he had flexible hours and rarely worked in the mornings, and it wasn’t like he slept much, anyway. In the beginning Adam had asked about Kris’s dating, but when Kris said he wasn’t that into Dr. Germaphobe after all, Adam didn’t seem too disappointed, and he dropped the dating subject after that. It had to be pretty obvious that Kris wasn’t going out much, since he was always on the phone.

Even though Adam kept things friendly-and-not-more, Kris felt encouraged. There was the fact that Adam called him most nights, for one thing. And the pictures were a step. He felt like he had pushed it enough and didn’t press for a current picture, but he sent Adam a couple of recent pictures of himself. He wanted to remind Adam that he no longer had the bowl haircut and hoped that maybe Adam would reciprocate. Adam didn’t. 

He clearly liked the pictures Kris sent, though. Kris liked talking in pictures. He sent pictures of sunrises, sandwiches, his new yellow Chucks. Adam sent back a series he called “Moonscapes from Hotel Balconies,” brown rice sushi, and alligator boots. 

“So,” Kris asked one night, “when did you know you were gay?”

“Sixth grade,” Adam answered promptly. “Boys’ locker room. It was Wonderland. What about you?”

“Hmm. A lot older than sixth grade. I never saw what all the fuss was about girls, but I didn’t think about it much past that. Katy says now that she figured it out before I did, but she didn’t know how to say something about it. Then in college I got to looking around, and yeah. And then I saw--this is embarrassing. I saw Brokeback Mountain.”

“Pretty enlightening?” There was a smile in Adam’s voice, but a fond one, not a mocking one.

“Oh, God. It was like, ‘Oh, that’s what the big deal is about sex.’ It was like, puberty at 20.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about. Hey a lot of guys don’t get it figured out until even later. Married, kids. I think you’re pretty amazing. Even though I always knew, I didn’t come out to my family until I was 18.”

“Yeah?” Kris was a little surprised. He knew from Adam’s stories that his family was really open-minded.

“Yeah. I only dated girls before that. I did their makeup and helped them shop for prom dresses. And fantasized about their brothers.”

“So, what did their brothers look like?” Kris tried to sound casual.

“Meaning, did I have a type? I swear, I can hear you blushing right now.”

“Shut up.”

“Sorry. My type. Let’s just say, I had a poster of Leonardo DiCaprio in _Romeo and Juliet_ hanging in a prominent position on my bedroom wall.”

Kris did a quick Google search. 

Matt was definitely wrong about the bears.

Adam cleared his throat. “You’re Googling it, aren’t you.”

“Naturally.”

“Like what you see?”

Kris considered it. “He was cute.”

“But? Come on, when you got to looking around in college, what caught your eye.”

“Hmm. Shoulders. Broad shoulders. Tall. Pretty eyes.” Kris’s heart was pounding. “Lately, I’ve been thinking a whole lot about freckles.”

Kris closed his eyes against the tension he felt come over the line.

“Kris.”

“This is ridiculous, Adam. Just. We should meet, okay? It would be stupid for us not to meet.”

When Adam didn’t answer, Kris’s voice grew softer. “Look, will you think about it? You said you’d be away for a month, and that was three weeks ago. When you get back in town, I would really like to go out with you. Come on. It’s just me.”

“I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you.”

Kris shook his head in frustration. “Because you think you’re heavy or something? Come on.”

“What? No, it’s not--I mean I don’t have to buy an extra airplane seat or anything, I’m just--”

“And I know what you looked like in high school, so unless you fell into a vat of acid or something--”

Adam’s sweet, musical laugh rang out again. “No. Nothing like that.”

Kris felt relief wash over him. If Adam was laughing again, things were okay.

“Alright, then. That just leaves the travel thing, and I’m sorry but that’s lame, I mean, no offense. But it is. Say yes.”

“You can be kinda bossy, did anyone ever tell you that?”

“Persistent. When it’s something I really want.”

Kris listened to Adam’s little huff of a laugh and held his breath until he heard, “Yes. Yes, persistent Kris, I would love to go out with you when I get back to L.A.”

Kris did a silent victory dance. “I know this really cool sushi place. No backing out, okay?” Then he changed the subject to a funny story that had happened at work, just to give Adam a chance to get used to the idea.

 

***

“Babyboy. I know you have your own pod and everything, but the walls on the bus are thin.”

Adam shot Tommy an amused look. “Oh, please. Like I’m the only one who jerks off on the bus?”

“Hardly.” Tommy smirked. “But that’s not what I mean. Who you talking to in there?”

Neil slid into the seat across from them and took a pickle from Adam’s plate. “It’s not phone sex. Too much laughing. I had to put in earbuds last night.”

“Sorry.” Adam genuinely was. He usually only talked to Kris on hotel nights. He didn’t want to keep anyone else awake. It wasn’t their fault he had insomnia.

“He never did sleep,” Neil told Tommy. “Two o’clock in the morning he’d be in the bathroom trying on Mom’s eyeshadow. He’d come in my room and wake me up when he got lonely.”

“You should get some Ambien or something,” Tommy suggested.

“Tried it,” said Neil. “That was the era of scary sleepwalking. One time we found him in the neighbor’s kitchen making waffles.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“Wearing satin zebra print boxers.”

Tommy stared at Adam. “Do you still have those?”

Adam threw a lemon at Tommy. “No. They would be too big for me now, anyway.”

“Bet somebody still makes them,” Tommy mumbled as he pulled out his phone.

“Have I mentioned how grateful I am that I am your blood relative and therefore immune to your dazzling sexual magnetism? But back to the original question. Who’s your phone buddy?”

Adam took a minute to answer. Kris was his secret. No, secret wasn’t the right word. But Kris was a private thing. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to lose that. And then he realized that feeling that way about Kris was exactly the reason he needed to talk about him.

“His name is Kris. I met him online.”

“Fanboy?” Neil looked bored already.

“Not exactly.” Adam started to pick at the polish on one thumbnail, then caught himself and wrapped his hands around his glass of ice. “Not at all, actually.”

Neil frowned. “What the fuck?” Always the protective brother when it came down to it.

“It’s not like that. He, umm. Doesn’t know who I am. No, that’s not--he knows who I really, really am, just not who I _am_.”

“You’re being uncharacteristically inarticulate right now,” observed Neil.

“Yeah,” agreed Tommy.

Adam took a deep breath and explained. He had enough sense of self-preservation not to mention StarMatch in front of Neil, but he told them the rest, right up to the night before when he had agreed to meet Kris when he got back to Los Angeles.

Tommy leaned back in his seat with a grin. “So he doesn’t know you’re a rock star and he still stays up all night laughing at your dumb jokes. He’s perfect. Dude’s a musician? He’ll flip his shit when he finds out you’re Adam Lambert.”

“I wish he didn’t have to find out. I wish...I don’t know what I wish.” Adam looked to Neil, whose expression was thoughtful and serious.

“How long have you been talking to him?”

“Three weeks.” Adam pulled up Kris’s picture on his phone. “This is him.”

Neil whistled under his breath. “What did you say his name was again? Brad DiCaprio?”

“I know. It’s like I special-ordered him. But it’s more than that. He’s so adorable, funny and smart, and he’s a musician. He played me a song he wrote, and it was amazing. And he’s so...real. Just, honest and himself.”

“And therein lies the problem,” Neil observed.

Tommy frowned. “What problem? He’ll think he won the fuckin’ lottery when he finds out he’s Adam Lambert’s phone boyfriend.”

“Tommy. How is he going to feel when he finds out Adam was keeping something this big from him? There had to be a lot of half truths told. Am I right?” he asked Adam.

Adam nodded. “I was just giving him dating advice at first, and it was kind of nice that he didn’t know, and I didn’t expect it to go anywhere. And when it did....”

“Kind of hard to casually drop that by the way, you’re an international rockstar.”

“He thinks I’m a regular guy with a regular life. He likes that guy. And on top of the fact that I haven’t been totally honest with him, I come with a shit-ton of baggage in the form of press and fans and stalker paps. I mean, he couldn’t even stand the club scene. What are the chances that he’d be okay with being a regular fixture on TMZ?”

“When you put it like that...damn.” Tommy shook his head.

“I told him I would go out with him when I get back.”

“You could fake your own death,” Tommy offered. “Just kidding.”

“Option one,” said Neil, “tell him before and give him time to get over the shock. Option two, wait until the actual meeting and watch him pass out when he sees you. Yeah, I’m thinking tell him first.”

Which Adam absolutely intended to do. He would be absolutely honest with Kris and explain the situation and hope he would understand. As soon as the time was right.

The time wasn’t right that night. He was really, really wiped after the show, and it was so nice just to lie in bed with the phone and listen to Kris fooling around with his guitar as he talked about the kind of dog he wanted to get some day, when he had a bigger yard.

“I’m so glad I met you, Kris Allen,” he murmured as they said good night.

The time wasn’t right the next day, either. Kris was in a lousy mood because the landlord was raising the rent, and the guy wasn’t even keeping the place up to begin with. “I fixed a leak in the roof myself, and he didn’t even say thanks,” Kris grumbled. Adam thought of Kris swinging a hammer while wearing a snug little tank top. In the rain. He wondered if he could get away with secretly buying the house and having it outfitted with a huge fenced-in backyard and a music studio.

“I’m sorry about complaining,” said Kris, winding down.

“I don’t mind.” It was true. “Go ahead and vent all you want.”

“Nah, I feel better now. Your voice makes me feel better.”

“It does?”

“Yeah. I, uh, may have a thing about your voice.” He sounded both flirty and shy, which thrilled Adam right down to his toes.

It just wasn’t a good time for his confession.

“I definitely have a thing for your voice,” Adam told Kris the next night. “Your accent is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. And that little break in your voice when you sing. It ignites every nerve ending in my body.” Maybe he was coming on a little strong, but he wanted to tell Kris while he could. Before Kris was too mad at Adam to listen to anything he had to say.

Adam could tell by Kris’s breathing that he was turned on, but Adam used every ounce of his will power to steer them away from phone sex territory. He had a feeling that going there before he had a chance to tell Kris the honest truth would be unforgivable. What they each chose to do after they hung up, however, was another matter entirely. Adam, for one, was grateful that it was a hotel night.

Every morning Adam resolved to tell Kris. Every night there was a perfectly valid reason not to.

The last few shows were always crazy. There was extra emotion from the audience and among the band and dancers and crew. It was so good to have Kris there at the end of every night, so calm and stable. It was selfish, Adam knew, but he didn’t want that to end.

The next to last night out, he checked his phone after the show to find a message from Kris saying that he got dragged out to a bachelor party for Scott, a guy from work. There was loud music and a lot of hooting in the background.

“The groom’s blind,” Kris said, “and he’s still getting more out of watching these strippers than I am. Anyway, we’ll be out late so you go on to sleep and we’ll talk tomorrow. And I’ll be seeing you in few days. Can’t wait. Okay, bye.”

Off the hook for one last night, Adam thought. Tomorrow, he would have to tell him for sure. He changed out of his stage clothes and headed out to the barriers with Ed.

Tommy was already there, signing autographs and posing for picture after picture. When Adam appeared and the crowd went nuts, Tommy waved and blew him a kiss, which made them even crazier.

“Tommy, what’s it like to kiss Adam?” called a girl with peacock feather earrings.

“Are you two going to be boyfriends?” her friend chimed in.

Adam gave them his stock “It’s just for the show, Tommy likes girls” answer as he signed a Rolling Stone.

“Besides, you’re leaving me for your hot phone-boyfriend, Kris,” Tommy said to Adam with a grin.

He didn’t notice the video camera until it was too late. “Oh shit! Sorry!” Tommy’s panicked expression sealed the deal.

The next morning, the headline on TMZ read, “Adam Lambert has a boyfriend! The hunt is on for Chris.”

Tommy couldn’t stop apologizing.

Neil was the voice of reason. “Kris isn’t the type of guy to read celebrity gossip. And they spelled the name wrong. Nothing to worry about. Well, except that the paps will be working overtime trying to catch you with him. At least, the ones who aren’t staking out Chris Pine. And Chris Hemsworth. And Chris Evans...”

“So, so fucking sorry. I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Tommy Joe, it’s okay.” Adam pulled him in for a hug. “There’s no way he could make the connection. No worries. Besides, I’m going to tell him tonight, anyway.”

Tommy sniffed and nodded against Adam’s shoulder while Adam silently resolved to really, finally, lay everything on the table.

***

Although Ally didn’t fulfill Matt’s intended purpose of being Kris’s guide into the wide world of gay sex, she was a great friend and someone who was squarely on Kris’s side when Matt was skeptical.

“It’s so romantic! Matty is being a worrywart, and you guys will be the sweetest couple in the world,” she said, right from the start. She was the one he told most of the details to, and he even showed her the pictures Adam had sent.

“Oooh, a redhead! And what a cutiepie little boy he was.” She looked at Kris with misty eyes. “If you two have a kid someday he might look just like this.” Kris blushed, but he couldn’t really say anything because the same thought may have crossed his mind.

She examined the high school picture more thoughtfully. “It’s so weird, I feel like I know him from somewhere.” She cocked her head. “This is ten years ago? So I couldn’t have known him in school. Kris, maybe Adam comes in here sometimes, and that’s why he looks familiar! And it’s like destiny that you met the way you did!”

She was ecstatic when Kris told her Adam had agreed to go out with him. “You have got to romance this boy, hermano! Where you gonna take him?”

“I was thinking Sushi Blues. I need your help about what to wear, though.” Allison literally jumped at the chance to take him shopping for tighter jeans.

So it was weird when Allison came into work and kept shooting Kris strange looks. Kris found her whispering something to a shocked-looking Matt in the corner during his break.

“What’s up, guys?”

Allison bit her lip. Matt said, “Nothing.”

Which Kris didn’t buy for a minute, but he had to get back to work. At the end of his last set, they were already gone.

Kris came home to Matt and Allison sitting in the living room. Allison had her computer open on the coffee table.

Matt handed him a drink. “Welcome home, honey. You’re going to need this.”

“Um. What exactly is going on here?”

Allison led him to the sofa. “There’s something you need to see.”

She clicked play on a youtube video. A guy with pink hair and a lot of makeup was signing something for some girls wearing a lot of glitter. He turned and blew a kiss at someone, and the camera turned to a tall man with black hair, also wearing a lot of eye makeup.

“Why exactly am I watching this? Who are these guys?”

“That’s Tommy Joe Ratliff. He’s a guitar player, and I was researching him for a fic I’m writing where he meets Frank and Gerard, and they...wait, listen!”

“Besides, you’re leaving me for your hot phone-boyfriend, Kris. Oh, shit! Sorry!” said the guitar player to the tall guy.

Matt paused the video and they looked at him expectantly.

“Wow. Another guy with the same name as me. What are the odds of that.” Kris wondered how much Matt and Allison had been drinking. “”Listen, I’m gonna turn in and call--”

“Kris. Don’t you know who that is?”

Kris looked back at the screen, frozen on the face of the dark-haired guy. “Nope.”

“That’s Adam Lambert.”

Kris looked again. “Oh, right. The American Idol guy who could sing like Freddie Mercury. Cale voted for him so many times his girlfriend started to worry.” Kris chuckled. “That was about the time I told them about me, so--”

“Kris. That’s Adam. Your Adam.”

“Yeah. That’s pretty funny. Okay, so good night, it’s been fun, but--”

“Show him the rest, Ally.” Ally typed in “Adam Lambert wiki” and scrolled through until she reached the early life section. There was a picture of a little boy wearing a cape. He had red hair, freckles, bright blue eyes.

Kris frowned. “Real cute, guys. Wikipedia, anybody can put up a picture. That,” he pointed to the screen, “is not Adam Mitchell.”

He started to stand up, but Matt gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “Wait.”

Allison did a Google image search for Adam Lambert. Kris watched as picture after picture popped up, concert stills and artsy posed shots, a few in drag, several of him with purple hair kissing someone who looked an awful lot like--he wasn’t even going to go there. And then there was the picture of the little boy in the bright green sweatshirt. Kris began to scroll through himself. Pictures from what looked to be children’s theater, some of him kissing Tommy the guitar player, a series of him flanked by Katy Perry and Elton John. A ginger-haired teenager in a red graduation gown holding a microphone and squinting into the sun. And then there was the high school picture with spiky hair, and the caption, “Adam Mitchel Lambert, Mt. Carmel High School Class of 2000.”

Kris stopped breathing. He felt Matt squeeze his shoulder, and Allison’s hand slipped into his. Nobody said a word.

Finally he turned to Allison. “Do you swear to me that this is not a joke?”

She nodded. “I swear, hermano.”

Kris closed his eyes. He nodded. “Okay. Okay.” He stared at the screen again for a long time in silence. “Thank you.” He stood up. “I’m gonna...” he gestured to his room.

“We’ll be out here if you need us, man,” Matt said.

Kris closed his bedroom door and just stood for a while, looking out the window at the crescent moon, as fragile as the last sliver of ice in a glass.

He sat on his bed and instinctively reached for his guitar, but he didn’t play. Instead he stroked the wood, ran his calloused fingers up and down the strings. He held the guitar close for a time, body curved around it with the force of music he was not yet ready to make. He put the guitar aside.

He kicked off his shoes and crawled into bed without getting undressed. It seemed like the kind of thing he was supposed to do under the circumstances.

When his phone rang, he waited until it stopped before he pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. “Name blocked,” it read as always. Adam had said it was a work security thing they all had to do. A chime signaled that he had a voice message. Kris hit ignore and turned it off, then he put the phone in the bedside drawer.

***

“He’s not answering his phone.”

“Go the fuck to sleep.” Neil rolled over and pulled the blanket over his head.

“Neil.”

Neil sighed and rolled back over. “Maybe he’s in the shower. Maybe he got dragged out to watch more strippers. Maybe he’s busy writing you a love song and didn’t hear the phone. Any of those options is a thousand times more likely than that he was watching sleazy entertainment TV and figured out that you’re Adam Lambert and he’s ‘Chris.’”

“He’s right, Boo,” came Terrance’s voice from the other side of the bus. “Get some sleep. Try again in the morning.”

“Can’t sleep. Lonesome back there,” Adam hinted.

“I’m not eight years old anymore, and I am no longer your human teddy bear. Go get Tommy.”

Adam shook his head. “He keeps apologizing,” Adam whispered.

“Terrance?” Neil called.

“Oh, for...fine, as long as you’re quiet. And still. If you get squirmy, I’m leaving.” Terrance threw back his curtain and marched toward the back of the bus. He was wearing the silk zebra-print boxers that Tommy had given everyone for end-of-tour gifts. “What?” he demanded at their amused expressions. “They were the only thing I had that was clean.” With a dramatic toss of his head, he climbed into Adam’s room at the back of the bus.

In spite of his grumbling, Terrance was good for a nice shoulder rub and some soothing words, like Adam knew he would be; and while Adam didn’t sleep much that night, it was comforting to have someone who cared breathing beside him.

***

Kris slept deeply that night, but he didn’t dream. When he woke up he didn’t feel angry or excited or confused. He didn’t feel anything. Just hollow.

After pulling on some shorts and a t-shirt, he headed out for an early morning run. He left his phone in the drawer.

It felt good to run, and he pushed himself, concentrating on his breathing and the stretch of his muscles. When he got home, Allison was in the kitchen cooking something that smelled wonderful.

“Omelettes with goat cheese, shower first.”

He resisted the urge to hug her until he came out of the bathroom scrubbed clean and fresh.

“You haven’t lost your appetite,” Matt observed as Kris finished his second omelette and reached for the bowl of strawberries.

“Alright, cutie,” Allison said. “Time to talk about this. Have you called him?”

“I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t even know him.”

A slightly awkward silence followed.

“Maybe you should give him a chance to--”

“Explain why he lied to me for a month?” Kris’s voice was calm and matter of fact. “Thanks for breakfast, Allie. It was awesome, really. I’m gonna head out to the gym now.”

Matt and Allison exchanged worried looks.

“Mind if I tag along?” Matt asked.

Kris raised an eyebrow. “Um, sure. You do realize people exercise there, right?”

“So sue me, I like to watch. Let me get my keys.”

At the gym it felt good to lose himself in the exercise again. Matt spotted while he lifted.

“So this is how come you look like that. Damn,” Matt said as Kris ended his last set.

“Are you pity flirting with me?” Kris demanded with a grin. The grin faded as Kris registered the song that was playing over the gym’s speakers: “Whataya Want From Me.” He listened for a moment, then stood up, tossed his towel in the bin, and headed for the door.

A cover on the magazine rack by the door caught his eye. _Details_ magazine. Kris helplessly reached for it.

The teenager from the high school photo was nowhere to be seen. The hair was jet black, the cheekbones were sculpted, the jawline was chiseled. Even the freckles were mostly gone, erased by makeup and photoshop. Kris took in the leather jacket, the fierce expression. He tried to reconcile it with the image of Adam he had held in his mind for all those weeks, a comfortable Adam with thick red hair and a big, warm body and a galaxy of freckles.

The DJ’s voice came on over the end of the song. “That was Adam Lambert, coming home tonight to play the Staples Center. Want to see Glambert? Don’t we all, but I’m afraid it’s sold out, kids.”

Kris put the magazine back on the rack and walked out the door. Matt followed him to the car, where Kris climbed into the passenger seat.

It seemed risky to turn on the radio, so they drove most of the way in silence.

“Thanks,” Kris said softly. “Thanks for not asking am I alright and do I want to talk. And for not saying it’s, like, so great or something that he’s really a big rockstar.”

Matt nodded. “Sure thing, man.”

When they got home, Kris disappeared into his room. He had a few hours before he had to be at work, and he felt tired. He tried to clear his mind and think of anything but Adam, but it was useless, so he finally gave in and pulled out his laptop. He only had to type the letters “ad” before “Adam Lambert Twitter” appeared. The most searched-for Adam in the world.

650,000,000 results.

Kris clicked on the first youtube video and watched Adam Lambert win American Idol after singing a god awful song about mountains and hurricanes as confetti fell all around him. He watched old footage of Adam Lambert covered in gold body paint and surrounded by fire, shaky fan videos of concerts, music videos from songs Kris had heard on the radio. He watched Adam Lambert fronting for Queen. His singing voice was superhuman. Kris’s cheeks burned as he remembered singing to Adam over the phone.

 

Kris watched him charm talk show hosts and radio DJs, unfailingly articulate and confident. His voice was achingly familiar when Kris closed his eyes.

 

“Why did you lie to me?” Kris asked the screen. “Was it a joke?” He felt an awful stinging feeling spread through his chest at the thought of Adam amusing himself by toying anonymously with people on the internet. “Jerk,” he whispered, just to try it out, but it didn’t fit right, didn’t make sense.

When it was almost time to leave for work, he sat and stared for a while at the bedside table drawer. He really wanted to just leave his phone in there, but he thought of how worried his mom would be if she left a message that went unanswered.

When he opened the drawer, the phone looked surprisingly innocuous. Clearly it had no idea of its importance.

Four missed calls from _number blocked_. Three voice messages.

Kris’s hand trembled as he pressed play.

_Hey, Kris. I tried to call you last night, but you weren’t there, so. Hey, listen, I wanted to talk to you about something. Tell you something. It’s, um. Yeah, so give me a call when you can, ok? Talk to you soon. Oh, I’m at the airport, but leave me a message if I can’t answer and I’ll call you when we land. Ok, ‘bye._

_Hey, me again. Home sweet home! Listen, I don’t want to be...it’s just pretty important for me to hear from you, that you’re alright and everything. I mean, I’m sure you are, but when you get a minute, call me, ok?_

The last message was left an hour ago. Kris could make out strains of music in the background.

_Kris. Listen, Kris, I think I know what’s...why you haven’t gotten back to me. Maybe. Or maybe it’s not...I mean maybe you lost your phone or something, I don’t...Kris, if it’s what I’m thinking, please let me explain everything. And if it’s not, you’re probably thinking I’m crazy right now, and that it’s something really awful, but it’s not. Or it doesn’t have to be. Fuck. Just, call me back? Please? Please._

Kris contemplated the time, 8:12, before he sent a text message: _I figure you’re on stage about now. I wanted to tell you I’m alright, but I won’t be calling. I hope you understand._

He put the phone back in the drawer and went to work.

***

Matt was playing the first set that night, and Kris talked him into taking the second as well.

“Seriously, man?” Matt asked. “You’d rather barback?”

And he would. Hours of lugging boxes of wine and restocking glasses sounded far more appealing to him than holding it together while playing love songs for an audience.

He threw himself into the work, scrubbing down the bar, washing glasses, filling the wells with ice. He kept his head down, and at first he didn’t even notice the commotion. But when Ally stopped singing mid-song, he looked up from the limes he was prepping.

“Come on!” Ally was saying as she pulled someone into the kitchen. Michael, the good-natured manager Matt jokingly called the bouncer because of his impressive size, stood with his arms crossed in front of the door.

“You guys aren’t out of here in thirty seconds, I call the cops,” he was saying to two men holding large cameras. “That means out of my bar and out of my parking lot.”

While Kris was still processing this, Matt grabbed his arm and steered him through the side door and into the storage room. He heard the click of the lock as Matt left.

Kris stood staring at the door, lime in hand. He heard an intake of breath and turned around, and there...was Adam Lambert. Of course he was.

He was wearing a t-shirt with a sparkly tree on it. His hair was mostly covered by a knitted cap, and his eyes were hidden behind large, dark glasses. When he took the glasses off, Kris could see the most beautiful blue eyes surrounded with shimmering blue and violet shadows. Unable to bear the weight of those eyes, the intensity of the gaze, Kris looked down at the lime he was still holding. He dug a thumb into the pulp.

“Please don’t be mad.” Adam’s voice sounded lighter in person. Kris thought of a crystal.

“Why would I be mad?” Kris asked the lime.

“Because I showed up here when you didn’t want to talk to me. And because I let you think things about me that weren’t true.”

“Why did you?”

Adam stood quiet for a while before he answered. “It wouldn’t have been the same. You wouldn’t have thought of me the same way.”

Kris raised his head and fixed his eyes on a spot over Adam’s shoulder. “Well, I’m not thinking of you the same now, am I.”

Adam flinched. “No. No, I guess you’re not.”

”It’s not about what you do. it’s not about what you look like or don’t look like.”

“I know. I know that. But. I wouldn’t have known. People are usually too busy looking at me to see me.”

Adam moved a step closer, and Kris could smell him, clean and exotic like green tea. He closed his eyes and rode the waves of Adam’s words. “Kris, everything essential you know about me is true. Everything. And one way to think of it is that now, you know more things that are true, that’s all. Just things to add on, like I know there are a million more things I can learn about you. And I know some of it might not be what you expected. Might not be what you want.” His voice broke a little. “But please give me a chance.”

Kris felt Adam’s warm hand on his cheek, and Adam’s breath feather-soft against his temple. “Will you look at me?” Adam whispered.

Kris did. He opened his eyes and Adam was right there, with hopeful eyes and care lines on his brow and a stray piece of glitter just above his lip.

There was a light tap on the door before it opened. A pair of doe eyes partially obscured by pink hair peered in.

“Oh, hey,” he grinned when he saw Adam. The grin grew even bigger as he took in Kris standing so close to Adam. “I’m the one who found you,” he said to Kris proudly. “Fuck, there’s a lot of piano bars in LA. Hey, sorry Adam, but we gotta split. Word’s out you’re here, Ed’s real pissed, and--”

The door was yanked open all the way, and a flesh mountain was scowling at them. Kris instinctively moved closer to Adam, who immediately wrapped a protective arm around him.

“It’s okay,” Adam soothed. “This is Ed. He’s with me.”

Kris nodded. Bodyguard. Of course. He started to move away, self-conscious now, but Adam gently pulled him back. “I have to go. I wish I didn’t.” Adam looked pointedly at Tommy and Ed, who moved a respectable distance away. Adam leaned down and whispered into his ear anyway. “Please don’t give up on me, Sirk.”

And then Kris was alone in the storage room, his cheek tingling with the memory of Adam’s kiss.

***

Adam was sitting alone on his deck watching the last sliver of moon and thinking of the way pineapple Lifesavers pointily vanish on your tongue when the phone buzzed.

“ _Awake?_ ” asked the screen.

Heart pounding, Adam sent back, “ _You know me_.”

The phone rang and Adam answered with an inspired, “Hi.” 

“Hi. Sorry it’s so late.”

“No, that’s--I’m just so glad.”

“My phone was at home, and I didn’t know your number, so.”

“Kris. I’m so sorry that--”

“No. Don’t. I don’t want to hear that you’re sorry. It just makes me feel bad when people are sorry.” 

Adam waited, unsure.

Kris continued. “I just need to know, was it ever just a joke for you?”

“No. Kris, I promise, it was never, ever anything like that.”

“Okay. I believe you. I’m sorry I had to ask.”

“I don’t blame you. But Kris, I swear. I wish I could think of a less lame way to say I never meant to hurt you. I’ll never hold anything back from you again. If.” 

The “if” hung between them for a long moment.

“So no more saying you’re fat. Because seriously, Adam.”

“That’s...gonna be--”

“Non-negotiable.”

Adam felt his grin all the way down to his toes. “Persistent.”

“When it’s something I really want.” 

The “want” hung between them for a moment before Kris continued. “Is tomorrow still good for you? I made reservations for seven o’clock.”

After they hung up, Adam sent Kris a picture of the moon from his house. In the morning, there would be an answer, and then pretty soon it would be seven o’clock. And seven o’clock was perfect.

 

***

_Epilogue: Many Moons Later_

Adam was early.

Matilda was expecting him, though, and after a hug she led him to the back corner table, where she left him with Duke Ellington and a bottle of champagne on ice. Adam gazed at the two flutes waiting beside the bucket and was flooded with what had over the past year become a familiar but no less thrilling thought: _I have a boyfriend._

Adam stretched, still working out the familiar kinks from hours spent on a plane. Kris had wanted to meet him at the airport as usual, but Adam had a feeling how that would go. They likely wouldn’t make it to the restaurant, and this was a date Adam wanted to keep. 

He was early because he wanted to watch Kris walk in, just like he had that night twelve months ago. On that night, Adam had been worried Kris wouldn’t show. That he would be put off by the presence of Mount Ed by the door, or the stares and murmurs of the other customers at Sushi Blues.

But Kris hadn’t been. When he had walked in, his eyes found Adam right away, and it took the hostess a few attempts to get Kris’s attention. Adam would never forget Kris’s lopsided smile as he crossed the room, the way his cheeks were flushed even before he had a glass of wine, the way his fingers nervously played chords on the tablecloth.

The way Kris was the one to rise up on tiptoes and brush his lips against Adam’s in the parking lot, innocent to the photographer lurking in the shrubbery, and the way Kris had chased down the photographer and then somehow charmed him into deleting the shots.

Only Kris.

The year had not been without its challenges. Regaining Kris’s trust was the first and most important. There was a lot to adjust to, and Adam had been committed to taking things slow, to making sure that Kris was absolutely okay with what he was getting into. Taking things slow was new for Adam, who had followed his frustratingly sexless teenage years with a lengthy period of making up for lost time. Kris, though, was more than worth the wait. What could be more perfect than Kris undressing him at last, eyes hungry as they explored his every line and curve.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Adam had asked, as always, and Kris had said, “Wonderland.” Adam had to fist his hands in the sheets while Kris explored with his hands and then his mouth, seemingly content to taste and torture for all eternity until he finally said, “Please, Adam,” and Adam had rolled him over and taken him to places he’d never been before.

After that, the challenge was being apart, and this time there were oceans between them. The phone wasn’t anywhere near enough. Sometimes Adam was moody and anxious. He worried that Kris wasn’t safe. “Stay at my place tonight,” Adam sometimes pleaded, and he would sleep well only when Kris conceded and Adam knew he was secure at night in Adam’s house high on a hill, with a security system and a gate.

“Come with me,” Adam wanted to say, but Kris had his own career to attend to, especially since a video of him performing at an open mic had gone viral. Sure, it had started with Glamberts, but then the video had taken on a momentum of its own, and a couple of record labels had noticed. Adam had to content himself with the thought of Kris wrapped in Adam’s sheets at night, and with the occasional early flight that allowed him to join Kris there for a few blissful hours.

Adam had stopped kissing Tommy on stage, to the devastation of one faction of fans and the delight of another. Kris got an unlisted number and learned to smile for the cameras but ignore the questions. He slowly began to let go of his concerns about the money difference, although he wouldn’t speak to Adam for nearly two days after Cassidy let slip the cost of the jacket Adam had custom made for Kris. (“It’s really for me,” Adam had reasoned, “so I can look at you wearing it.”) 

Kris had navigated red carpets and Brad’s parties. Adam had navigated Conway, Arkansas. Everyone survived.

The door opened and Kris came in, same lopsided smile, same flush on his cheeks, eyes only for Adam as Matilda escorted him to the table. 

Kris settled wordlessly across from Adam, their hands automatically linking on the table. Kris tucked his thumbs underneath Adam’s palms, stroking hello after eleven days apart. Adam raised Kris’s hand to his lips and playfully nipped his knuckle.

Words they had plenty of while Adam was away. Now was the time for touch.

But it was, after all, a public place, and the waiter was opening the champagne. After a toast and a tingly kiss, Kris wondered, “How do you manage to look so beautiful after spending the day on a plane?”

“Benefit of travelling with Sutan.” He was pleased Kris had noticed. “You look pretty amazing yourself.” Kris was wearing the silky green shirt Adam had sent him, unbuttoned one button below standard Kris level.

They took their time sipping champagne and feeding each other bites of this and that. For once no one came to the table for a picture or an autograph, and Adam suspected Matilda had something to do with protecting their little corner from intruders.

Kris had made Adam promise not to buy him an anniversary present. It was a tradition with his parents, he said. They bought each other presents for Christmas and birthdays, and sometimes just because. But the rule was that no money could be spent on anniversary presents, and Kim had a box filled with sketches and love letters that she treasured above anything in her jewelry case.

“My gift for you,” Adam said, sliding a little box across the table. “It’s not anything I bought,” he reassured.

Kris opened it to find a key. Adam explained, “It’s the same as the one you already have. I just--it’s symbolic, I guess. I’m asking you to stay with me. When I’m there, and when I’m not there...I want you to live with me and not, you know, anywhere else. I want to have a home together with you.” Adam’s voice was unsteady as he asked, afraid of Kris’s answer, because Kris was proud and independent and cared entirely too much about the money-difference thing and --

“Yes.”

Adam’s eyes widened. “Yes?”

Kris grinned helplessly. “Yes. I want that too, so much. And let’s face it, you couldn’t even fit your belt collection in my closet, and as much as Matt likes you he didn’t sign up for--”

“Yes! Oh my god, we have to go home right now and celebrate!” 

“Adam, wait!” Kris laughed. “I didn’t give you my presents yet.” He reached into his leather bag and pulled out some papers. “I wrote this for you.”

Sheet music. At the top of the first page, Kris had written, “For Adam, who was meant to be. With all my love, Kris.”

Adam only made it through the lyrics of the chorus before his eyes were too full to make out any more words.

“I love it, Kris. I love you. Baby, will you play it for me as soon as we get home?” 

“Well, I will after I give you your other present.” Kris leaned forward and spoke in his deepest, sexiest voice. “It’s a new game I invented. I call it, ‘Find My New Wolf Tattoo.’”

It was an excruciating ride home, with Adam’s hands tracing Kris’s body through his clothes and trying to tease out a clue. 

“Gotta play by the rules,” Kris said, which meant no clothes came off in the car even though Ed and the driver were up front and the partition was tightly closed. Adam began to suspect that they were circling the city, trying to drive him out of his mind. But they finally made it home, where Adam laid Kris out on his bed (their bed now) and unwrapped him like the gift that he was. 

“Sleep now,” Kris murmured later. Adam closed his eyes to the moonlight that shimmered on the bed, dancing across the freckled hand that played sentry to the elegant wolf on Kris’s hip. Body curved softly around his love, Kris sang a lullaby.

_If I was blindfolded  
If my memory was erased  
If every sign pointed to another place  
I'd still find you  
I will still find you  
I'd still find you  
If I was blindfolded_


End file.
